Fracture
by celeste9
Summary: The creature looked like something out of Arthurian legend. Apocalypse!AU.


A/N: This was written for a reverse art challenge on Primeval Denial, the (truly stunning) art was created by munchkinofdoom can be found on LJ, this site messes with links so I won't include it. A small, (poorly) cropped version has been used as the header. The soldier OCs Dave 'Ditzy' Owen, Jon Lyle, Robbie Finn, Niall 'Blade' Richards, and Joel Stringer were created by fredbassett and are used with permission. WARNING: This is apocalypse fic and as such, is not a happy fic and contains character death. There is also a tiny bit of implied, off-page Becker/Ditzy which you may ignore if it bothers you!

_**Fracture**_

The world was silent.

At first, Becker had hardly been able to hear his own shouted commands over all the screaming. Now he wished for screaming as at least it would have meant there were still people left for him to save.

* * *

The anomaly opened in the sky near the Palace of Westminster. Lester nearly had a heart attack at the PR nightmare.

When the first creature came through, people gathered in crowds on the ground to see it. News crews lined up to film it and the media started tossing names about. Norbert and Smaug and Drogon, because their cleverness only extended so far as imitation.

Later, they realised it had only been a scout. That was why it hadn't attacked immediately.

When the ARC team arrived on the scene, the 'dragon' was flying low, circling central London. People were snapping pictures and talking excitedly into mobiles, though everyone ducked and got out of the way whenever the creature came near.

It did look rather like something out of Arthurian legend, the vaguely serpentine shape with wings like those of a bat, dark in colour with scaly skin that looked hard and tough even from far away. It was also enormous, like it could have carried an entire company of soldiers on its back.

Cutter whistled, Connor at his side. "Look at it. Have you ever imagined you'd see the like, lad?"

Connor's eyes were as big as saucers, tracking the creature as it flew. "Imagined, maybe."

"It's beautiful," Abby breathed.

"It's a big fucking problem," Becker muttered. "How do you propose we get rid of it?"

No one said anything for a minute until Cutter offered, "I don't suppose it's interested in the colour red?"

"Maybe something shiny?" Connor chimed in. "Aren't dragons supposed to like treasure?"

"This isn't a story," Becker began and then stopped as Abby said, "Look!"

The dragon was solving their problem for them. It flew back through the anomaly and disappeared from sight.

Cutter, Connor, and Abby actually looked disappointed. Becker, if pressed, might have admitted to being slightly let down that he hadn't had anything to do, but mostly he was glad he'd been saved the bother of trying to get a sodding dragon back through an anomaly.

Also, with a glance at Jenny, shoving her way through the reporters, he was glad he didn't have to concern himself with the cover-up. (Of course, considering the no holds barred approach Jenny took to PR, it was definitely the reporters who truly deserved Becker's sympathy.) Instead he set to organising a watch until the anomaly closed.

Becker was stowing his Mossberg in the back of one of the Range Rovers when he heard it. It was a strange sound, almost like thunder but there wasn't supposed to be a storm; it had been clear only a minute ago. He looked up, just as the shouting started.

The sky was dark but it was no storm. What looked like hundreds of those creatures had flocked through the anomaly, covering the sky like a plague of locusts. For what felt like an age Becker couldn't bring himself to do anything but stare, watching them fly through in an endless stream and then bank off in varying directions.

He jarred himself back into action when the dragons, manoeuvring into actual sodding formations, started spraying streams of fire, burning through the streets and lighting up the buildings. "Fuck me," he swore. Fire-breathing dragons.

People were screaming in the streets and knocking each other down in a mad rush to get away. Cutter was running _towards _the centre of it, like the crazy person he was, but then Becker realised he was going for Jenny. So, still a crazy person, but a noble crazy person at least.

"Get out of the street," Becker yelled at Connor, Abby, and Sarah as he reclaimed his shotgun and as much extra kit as he could manage. The Range Rovers were going to be a lost cause; there was no way they could drive them in the chaos. His team were arming themselves in the same manner as Becker without needing to be told.

What they really needed was a tank, Becker thought, or a few good Tornados.

But that wasn't what they had. "Wait until they dive low enough and aim for their faces," Becker said. "Their bellies, anywhere it looks like they might be more vulnerable. Try to get the civilians inside."

He ran forward and then swerved as a flaming chunk of roof fell into the street ahead of him. "And for God's sake, watch for the fire!"

Becker was able to reach his major at Credenhill, and was told briskly that they were aware of the situation and getting troops mobilised to send in, from the Albany Street Barracks and Hounslow, and jets from RAF Northolt.

"Do what you can, Captain," the major said.

"Yes, sir," Becker said and resolutely did not think that 'what he could' likely wouldn't be any good at all.

Sarah was alarmingly out in the open, pleading with a woman who wouldn't let go of a man lying on the pavement. "Please, there isn't anything you can do for him, just come with me." There was a burn on the back of Sarah's hand, stretching up her arm, the skin an angry red and blistering.

One quick look was all he needed but Becker stopped and checked for the man's pulse anyway. There wasn't any. "Ma'am?" he said but the woman just sobbed, clutching at the dead man, who might have been her brother. Becker grasped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. "Ma'am, I'm sorry but he's gone, and unless you'd like to join him, you'd better let my friend take you somewhere safer."

Tears were streaming down the woman's face but she nodded and let Sarah help her to her feet.

"Try to join Abby and Connor, but don't take any stupid risks trying," Becker said to Sarah. "I'll come for you when I can."

"Be careful," Sarah said, kissing his cheek, and ran.

"Fucking Christ!" Becker yelled as a dragon dropped down low in front of him, beating air with its wings. He ducked beneath the sharp claws and rolled, coming up to fire again and again until the thing shrieked and veered off, blood dripping.

"Boss!"

Finn was coming towards him, Cutter, Jenny, and two men in what had previously likely been very nice suits trailing after him.

"In here," Becker said and ushered them into a restaurant. "Get under the tables."

Finn joined Becker outside, eyes upraised. "Well, this is a bloody disaster."

"Yeah, just about." Becker made sure his radio was on and tuned to the right frequency and said, "Lyle? Lyle, do you read?"

There was no response from the ARC. Becker ducked swiftly out of the doorway and fired into the belly of a dragon passing overhead and then ducked back, calling for Lyle again.

"Yes, sorry, boss," came the sound of Lyle's voice through Becker's earpiece, finally.

"Christ, Lyle, what the hell are you doing? Hasn't anyone been watching the news? I need every-"

"Sorry, no can do, boss," Lyle interrupted, the faint unevenness of his tone indicating that he was likely running. "We're having a bit of a day here, ourselves."

"There's a sodding swarm of dragons invading London, but _you're_ having a bit of a day?"

"Another anomaly opened. In the ARC."

Becker cursed a blue streak that would have made Joel Stringer proud. Finn didn't even blink. "Incursion?"

"Future predators."

This time Becker managed to keep his language to himself, barely. He'd never had the pleasure of encountering the future predators but he'd read the reports. "Clear out the civilians-"

"Already on it. Well, except for Lester, bloody stubborn bastard. Armed himself with an M249 and refused to leave."

"Fucking hell, of course he did, because why would he ever make my life easier?"

"At least we know he can use it."

Yes, Becker had read that report as well. "Call in back-up, but I can't say you'll be much of a priority at the moment."

"I know, boss. Least I'm used to dealing with shit on my own."

"Be careful," Becker heard himself saying without quite meaning to.

"You know me," Lyle said, which wasn't reassuring in the slightest, and there was a burst of gunfire in the background. "Try not to get yourself eaten."

Becker fired at a small creature that probably still outweighed him three times over at least, its claws outstretched, and tried not to think about how that was a distinct possibility.

* * *

They learned quickly that not all of the dragons were the same - there were the littler ones used more as, well, messengers, for lack of a better word, there were the fire-breathers, there were the ones that spit some sort of acid. The buggers were smart, that was clear. Becker lost communications when the creatures started systematically taking out radio and mobile towers.

"Was that a fighter jet?" Connor said suddenly, pressing his face against the window of the shop they had taken refuge in to look outside.

"Everyone stay inside," Becker said, running outside, past the soldiers on watch.

Typically, he was ignored. The others crowded around him and they all watched the planes soaring into battle, firing at the dragons. It was certainly unlike any aerial fight Becker had ever witnessed, more like something he'd expect to see in bad sci-fi. It was all a bit astronauts versus cavemen, modern warfare against supernatural might.

One of the dragons gave out a distressing, pained cry and came crashing down into the building across the street, lying motionless.

"It's horrible," Abby said, squeezing her laughably useless tranq gun in a white-knuckled grip where it hung by her side.

Becker stood gazing at the same dead animal she was but couldn't muster anything except a feeling of relief that at least there was one less dragon to worry about. "I'd be more inclined to feel bad about it if they hadn't declared war on us without so much as a how do you do."

Besides which, the dragons were hardly helpless against the RAF. They were swift and could manoeuvre surprisingly well, given their size, not to mention that lacking guns certainly didn't mean they were unarmed, so to speak. With a sinking heart, Becker watched one swipe at a Tornado and send it spinning into the side of Victoria Tower.

It simply wasn't enough, and though some dragons fell, in the end they made the RAF look nearly hapless.

A formation of jets sped by overhead, straight through the anomaly.

If any of them ever made it back out, Becker never saw it.

* * *

Those reinforcements Becker's major had said were on the way never really materialised. In the hours, and then the days, following the invasion, Becker came across scattered knots of soldiers and the occasional tank and suspected he'd find similar struggles elsewhere, but it was nowhere near enough, and much too late. It seemed likely the large groups of dragons he'd noticed peeling off from the rest had flown to intercept the reinforcements and to attack the military bases.

The tiny part of Becker that still dared to hope thought that it was ridiculous to think the dragons could have wiped out everything. Maybe the British Army were licking their wounds and developing a plan of attack, maybe troops would come in from… from Aldershot, or somewhere else farther from London. Maybe the rest of England was fine; maybe it would all be fine.

But that part of Becker was very, very tiny and he had learned long ago to put faith in nothing and no one but himself.

The dragons weren't haphazardly destroying whatever they saw; they were targeting what would hurt the most. Connor could be heard muttering about alien invasions, and really, it was a fair comparison. If aliens ever had decided to invade London, it probably would have been something like this. It was like the whole thing had been planned.

By dragons. In spite of the fact they clearly had a language, Becker was finding it extremely difficult to reconcile giant flying lizards with tactics and plans. It made him wonder whether the dragons had been here before.

For the most part Becker tried to keep everyone out of the major streets. Too difficult to move and too dangerous. He wanted to get them all out of London, to try their luck farther from the centre of the attack. To be honest he had little hope it would be much better beyond the city, but he had to do something.

It came as small consolation that the civilians had simply accepted it when Becker put himself firmly in charge. It seemed a very long time ago that Cutter had told everyone to do as Becker said, unless Cutter disagreed with him. Now Cutter listened when Becker spoke and let Becker make the decisions. They still sometimes followed when they shouldn't, or refused to stay put when they should, but it was Becker's game to call and they were all Becker's to lose.

Sometimes he wished for the simplicity that came with being a regular soldier, not an officer, not the one everyone else looked to. There was a sort of reassuring steadiness to the military, to knowing what your place was and to following orders.

There wasn't anyone for Becker to take orders from.

* * *

Jenny sat down next to Becker where he had his back leaned up against the wall. She offered him half of a chocolate bar. "Had it in my handbag," she explained, the corner of her mouth tilting wryly.

"Thanks," Becker said, and broke off a piece, letting it melt in his mouth. He didn't even particularly want it, but he appreciated the gesture and the thoughtfulness. Besides, logically he knew he needed to eat something, even if it was only chocolate. "How are they doing?"

The direction of Jenny's gaze went to the huddled forms of Cutter, Sarah, Connor, and Abby. "They're… hanging in there," she said, sighing. "I think now the adrenaline's worn off we're all a bit in shock, still."

"I'm sorry I'm not much good. I should… I wish I knew how to say something to make it seem better. I'm not much of a talker."

"You don't say."

Becker huffed a small laugh, not for any particular feeling of amusement but more as an automatic response. Self-deprecating, perhaps.

"Becker," Jenny went on, brown eyes entirely serious. "You can't possibly think you have anything to apologise for. 'Not much good'? You got us here, didn't you?"

"Not all of us," Becker said, and thought of his men who had died already. He didn't think they'd be the last.

Jenny reached out to squeeze Becker's hand. "No, not all."

They sat there together, quietly, and it didn't make anything better but Jenny's presence was welcome all the same.

* * *

They still didn't know what the creatures were, or where they came from. 'Dragon' was only a simple term because they had no other reference. Connor thought perhaps they were from the future, that they were the result of experimentation and evolution, like the future predators, but they could have just as easily come from the past.

"Cultures all over the world have legends about dragons," Sarah said.

The stories came from somewhere, after all. Perhaps the dragons were from some long-ago time and only a handful had survived to raze towns and frighten people.

Personally, Becker thought that theory was bollocks. He'd seen one of those things take out a Challenger 2; he highly doubted medieval weaponry would have stood a chance.

"An alternate timeline," Connor suggested, with a swift look at Cutter.

"What, like someone stepped on a butterfly and dragons took over the world?" Becker said, scoffing. That was a bit different than the Claudia Brown/Jenny Lewis conundrum, and even harder to swallow.

Connor deflated and Becker immediately felt like a bastard. He didn't know why he could never say the right thing. He could sense Abby glaring daggers at the side of his head.

"It's a good thought, Connor," Cutter prompted gently, apparently taking the opportunity to slip into professor mode. "Why don't you tell us more of what you're thinking?"

Becker listened to them debate it, half glad for the distraction and half wishing that this, any of it, would make a difference. Knowing where the dragons came from wasn't going to help send them back there before anyone else died.

* * *

As they moved through the wreckage of the city, their numbers swelled slightly. They found three young women, American students on holiday, who had been crouching inside a shop. One of the three, a girl with frizzy blonde hair wearing a dirty sports jersey, had somehow armed herself with a gun, likely taken off a dead soldier. Her name was Molly and Becker knew almost at once that she was the only reason any of those girls were still alive.

They met two wounded soldiers who had come out of Hounslow, who couldn't tell Becker anything he didn't already know - or at least, nothing he hadn't already guessed. One had a broken arm in a makeshift sling, but her companion was rather badly burned. He was clearly suffering but there was little Becker or anyone else in their group could do for him.

Their numbers fell, also. As careful as Becker tried to be, sometimes the dragons found them.

They lost Sarah first. She shouldn't have been with them in the first place, she didn't belong in the field, but then, she wouldn't have fared well in the ARC, either. Somehow Becker knew she would have been another Lester, refusing to leave while predators prowled the corridors. Sarah had guts, but unlike Lester, she didn't know how to use an M249.

Becker knew her screaming would haunt his dreams until the end of his days. Knowing that his days were likely very much numbered didn't make him feel at all better.

* * *

There was a body in the street ahead of them, and one of the smaller dragons, probably a juvenile, was hunched over it and ripping out chunks. It reminded Becker of an oversized crow, looming in the shadows and scavenging.

He emptied his shotgun into it until it fell, motionless, the pained sound of its cries fading, and then he moved closer and reloaded. He fired two more rounds into its head. The mess of it splattered on the street gave him an unpleasant sort of satisfaction.

"There was no need for that, lad," Cutter said softly, faintly disapproving.

"Perhaps you'd rather I'd left it," Becker said, knowing full well that wasn't what Cutter had meant.

"With a more intact body, I could have done a proper autopsy, maybe I could-"

"And how exactly would you like to transport it? How long do you expect it would take before its larger friends find us? Even if we did manage to move it, where do you propose we take it? To the ARC, overrun with predators?"

"I didn't say it would be easy! Not all of us are content to just shoot at things we don't understand!"

"In case you've forgotten, they came here and started killing _us._ Look around you! They've destroyed us!"

"That doesn't mean we should give up, for God's sake, let me be of use-"

"You want to be of use? Let me do my fucking job and keep you safe!" Becker wished there was something else for him to shoot because Cutter's face was starting to look like a really nice target. He balled his fist at his side and most certainly did not picture himself breaking Cutter's nose as a form of stress relief.

Jenny came over and laid her hand on Cutter's shoulder. Her face was smudged with soot, her hair fell in tangles around her face, and her blouse was torn but her voice was as calm and steady as ever. "Please, let's not fight. Everyone is doing the best they can. Don't you think we have enough to be getting on with without arguing amongst ourselves?"

Cutter's shoulders slumped, the fight gone out of him, and he accepted Jenny's arm round his waist. He looked worn and weary, his hair hanging limply.

"I'm not the bad guy here," Becker said and walked on down the street.

* * *

"Boss!"

Becker turned at the hissed word and watched Finn running up to him. "What's wrong?"

"You need to go and see," Finn said, nodding back towards the direction he had come from. "It's Ditzy, he's found us."

"Watch them," Becker said and immediately went off, though he could hear the hurried footfalls that meant he was being followed. Cutter, Jenny, Connor, and Abby, he hadn't the slightest doubt. "You know it's easier to stop you getting killed when you do as you've been asked."

"Can't remember you actually asking us anything," Cutter said, infuriatingly.

"It was implied."

"Really? Sorry, must've missed that."

"Honestly, Becker," Jenny said, sounding as close to laughter as she had since the whole mess started. "You should know better."

Ditzy was leading a group of what could only be called survivors up the street, ducking into corners and moving in staggered bursts as he watched the skies and made sure it was clear before urging the others on. A mix of civilians and soldiers, some from the ARC and some he must have picked up along the way, not one of them unscathed.

There were two young children clinging to each other towards the back, and an older woman limping on a bad leg and leaning on the arm of someone who may have been her daughter. It felt heartless to think so, but Becker almost wished Ditzy had left them. It was hard enough to keep moving when all he had to worry about was more or less able-bodied adults.

In any case, he couldn't deny the surge of hope at seeing that at least some of his friends and colleagues had made it out of the ARC. He hadn't even let himself consider the possibility he might see any of them again. Blade was guarding the rear, his face set and hard. Lorraine was there, carrying a handgun and sticking close to Lester, her skirt ripped and her hair loose from her pins. She looked like she was wearing someone else's shoes and Becker didn't want to consider where she'd got them from.

Lester looked ready to fall over, and likely would have had he not been _Lester, _who of course couldn't ever show such a blatant display of weakness. Still, when Abby went to him and slid her arm around his waist in a supportive gesture she only thinly disguised as seeking comfort for herself, Lester let her do it, sagging slightly into her. That as much as anything forced Becker to acknowledge the direness of the situation.

Ditzy was bleeding through a bandage wrapped around his arm and there was a shallow gash on his forehead. It was a relief to have a proper medic again - the medic they'd brought on the shout, Corporal Collins, twenty-four and recently engaged, had died in the initial attack. "Thank fuck we found you," Ditzy said.

"Lyle?" Becker asked, even though he feared he knew the answer.

Ditzy only shook his head, wordlessly, while the colour drained further from Lester's already too pale skin. Becker wondered whether he was in shock.

"This is all of us," Ditzy eventually said. "As far as I know. I suppose some others might have made it out before… We blew it up, we blew up the ARC."

There was an audible gasp coming from behind Becker. "You… the ARC is gone?" Cutter asked.

"We couldn't contain them; we didn't know what else to do. It was Lyle's idea."

A part of Becker felt a horrible urge to make a joke about that, about Lyle and mayhem, but the looks on their faces and the sick feeling in his stomach stopped him. "Come on," he said. "It isn't safe here in the open."

* * *

Becker was sitting huddled with Ditzy in the building they were using to take cover in at the moment, their knees nearly touching as they leaned in close. Becker didn't particularly care to be overheard.

"It was like they were waiting for us," Ditzy was saying. "The alert had barely gone off before they started slinking through, there must have been two dozen of them. Lyle called for back-up but we weren't expecting anyone to listen; we reached the lads on their days off, the ones that weren't caught out in your shitstorm, but most of them couldn't even get through the city to reach us."

Ditzy paused to take a breath. "Stringer made it in, but not back out. It was pretty much chaos, the bloody things got everywhere and it was all we could do just to hold on. Anomaly closed, but the predators were all on the wrong side. Locked some in the labs but it never held them for long. In the end, when Lyle said to rig up the explosives, no one even argued."

Becker felt like he should say something, sorry, maybe, but he couldn't. The words stuck in his throat. He glanced away from Ditzy to where Lester was sitting, surrounded by Abby, Connor, Cutter, and Jenny and fielding their questions. His skin still looked eerily white and when Lorraine pushed through to him he couldn't quite hide his relief. She gave the others stern looks and sat at Lester's side, sliding her hand into his. Lester clenched it.

"He's a tough old bastard," Ditzy said quietly. "Saved my skin once back in the ARC. I don't think I ever gave him enough credit."

"He deserves better than this," Becker said. They all did.

"Maybe, but I think there's nothing for it but to accept that this is what we've got."

The faint roaring of a dragon punctuated Ditzy's words. Becker got up to go and relieve Finn on watch.

* * *

"Maybe someone will come to help us," Connor said, his voice so agonisingly hopeful that Becker almost couldn't bear to listen. He half-wanted to shake some sense into Connor but knew that that was cruel.

Lester's sharp reply indicated he felt much as Becker did. "You think so? Like who?"

"I don't know, the... the French? The Americans?" Connor ignored Lester's disbelieving snort. "It isn't stupid to think the rest of the world won't abandon us."

"And who's to say they'll have any more luck than we did?"

"The course of the world progresses in cycles," Cutter spoke up. "A dominant life form rises to the top and eventually gets replaced. Maybe humanity's simply met its match."

"That's bleak," Jenny said into the silence that met Cutter's words.

"That's life," Becker said.

* * *

Becker watched Ditzy change the dressing on a nasty-looking but healing cut low on Lester's abdomen, then approached when Lester pulled his shirt back down. Ditzy offered a small smile as he went by.

"I didn't know you were injured," Becker said.

"I was a tad slower than the situation warranted, I'm afraid," Lester said, carefully tucking in his shirt. Only Lester would care about what he looked like in the midst of an apocalypse. "I expect my daily lunch hour walk and the occasional game of squash at the weekend weren't quite enough to keep me in prime physical shape."

"If you were concerned about that, I would have been happy to invite you to our training sessions."

Lester made a face at him. "How terribly kind of you."

Becker slid down the wall until he was seated on the floor beside Lester. It felt weird; he wanted to search the building for something decent to give Lester to sit on. "I wish you'd told me."

"That I needed more exercise?"

"That you were hurt."

"Ah. Well, it didn't seem worth mentioning. Most of us here have been, in some way or another."

"It would help me," Becker said, meeting Lester's gaze. "I need to know the status of every person here, whether you think it's important or not."

Understanding dawned in Lester's eyes. "Of course. Perhaps I should start calling you General, instead."

Becker turned away, leaning his head back against the wall. "I don't give a fuck what you call me, sir, quite frankly, as long as you do what I say."

To Becker's surprise, Lester laughed. Becker wasn't sure he'd ever heard Lester laugh before. "But you'll still call me sir."

Becker let himself smile, just a little. "Wouldn't want to completely overthrow you. Sir."

"Becker," Lester said, sounding alarmingly serious. "I would like you to make use of me. I know I'm not a soldier, and I know that my particular skill set isn't exactly needed here, but I can be of use."

_Of use, _Becker thought, and remembered Cutter, desperate and pleading in the street, trying to make sense of what his place was in all of this. No one wanted to be the hanger-on, the leech. "Yes," Becker said, and remembered Lyle painting him a mental picture of Lester and a machine gun. "Yes, I believe you can."

If only one thing was certain, it was that they couldn't afford to have leeches if they wanted to survive.

* * *

Abby and Connor had settled in to a steady pace near Becker. He was only half-listening to the low hum of their chatting as he kept an eye out for the dragons. They'd had to huddle up against the side of a burnt out building not long before as one flew over their heads, but it hadn't noticed them, and they had carried on their way.

"What do you think they want?" Abby was saying. "If we could just figure that out, I think we'd-"

"Make a treaty?" Becker interrupted, unable to stop himself. "Arrange for a cease-fire and negotiate for peace?"

Abby's eyes widened, startled, as she didn't seem to have been aware Becker was paying any attention to them. "You make it sound silly."

"It is silly. What do they want? Clearly nothing, unless it's to wipe England off the map."

"Every creature on this earth wants something," Abby insisted, stubborn to a bloody fault. "Food, territory, a mate, whatever. They all want something."

"Fine, then, there's your answer. They've moved in and want very much to stay, only they need to rid the place of its pesky prior inhabitants first."

Connor was watching them both warily as though he expected a fight to break out. "I think Abby only meant-"

"I know what the fuck Abby meant," Becker said, too loudly, and he calmed himself. "And I don't give a flying fuck what they want and you shouldn't, either. They're the enemy and that's it."

Abby's face had reddened faintly, like she was in a high temper. "Don't you think that's our problem? It's always us or them, and maybe they knew that. Didn't you ever wonder why they came here, like they knew us, like they knew exactly what to expect?"

Before Becker could so much as open his mouth, Ditzy swept in between them. He laid a hand on Abby's shoulder, and then Connor's. "Would you two mind running back to the professor and telling him I'd like a word, please?"

Abby glanced from him to Becker and back to Ditzy, before nodding.

"Thanks," Ditzy said, smiling at them, and watched them run off before he fell into step next to Becker. "You do know how to make friends, don't you?"

"I'm not out to make friends," Becker said, disgruntled. "I don't need them to like me; I only need them to listen to me."

"You can do both."

"I'd rather focus on the latter." All Becker needed was for them to trust his ability to keep them safe, and maybe then he could actually do it.

Ditzy ignored him and said instead, "Actually, I know for a fact it's possible. Would you like to know how I know?"

As Ditzy clearly wanted to tell him, Becker gave in and just said, "How?"

Ditzy gave him a rather blinding smile and knocked his shoulder against Becker's. "Because I listen to you, but I kind of like you, too. God knows why."

Becker scanned the sky, feeling something lighten in his chest. "God knows why."

That evening, when they'd found shelter for the night, Connor wandered over to Becker, clutching his hands behind his back. "Hi, Becker."

"Hi," Becker said, puzzled.

"I, well, I just wanted to say, I know you don't think much of us. I know you think we're just a bother and I know it'd be easier for you if you didn't have us hanging around and getting in the way."

"Connor, I don't-"

"No, uh," Connor stopped and bit his lip, looking over his shoulder at where Abby was sitting with Lorraine. "We're trying, you know? We're all trying, and Abby's only trying to make sense of this. It's kind of… kind of a mess, yeah? And none of us know what to do, and we know you're trying to protect us, and that you're just…" He swept a hand through his hair, the too-long, unwashed strands of it. "I guess what I'm saying is, we're sorry for being a bother but we're all doing the best we can. I know you don't like us much but we're grateful for what you've done and we're… we're trying."

Becker stared at Connor as he lapsed into an awkward silence. For all the jumbled mess of Connor's speech, he thought he'd followed and that he understood what was at the heart of it. Which was a rather disturbing thought, actually, but never mind. Becker didn't know what to say, though, he never knew what to say. So he said, "It's not that I don't like you, it's that I don't know you."

Connor, for whatever reason, grinned, his face lighting up. "Well, you see, we don't know you either. But we could? If you wanted. We're all sort of stuck together, anyway."

"Yes," Becker agreed, and didn't voice the thought that must surely be in the back of Connor's mind, too. They were stuck together for as long as it took until some other disaster struck. Until someone else died.

Becker was going to do everything in his power to stop that from happening.

"Ryan liked us eventually," Connor offered, sounding hopeful. "Captain Ryan, I mean. Maybe we should all give each other a chance. Not like there's much else to do. Stay alive and keep each other company, that's about it."

That was a remarkably true assessment, Becker was forced to admit. He couldn't afford any distractions, couldn't afford anything slowing him up, but he could do this much, maybe. "I used to have a dog," Becker said, and watched Connor beam.

* * *

They got separated. Two of the bigger dragons caught them as they were on the move to find new shelter for the night, spraying a line of fire down the middle of the street. Becker felt the heat from it scorch his face and all he could do was yell, "Run!" as he held his own ground and aimed his shotgun into the closest dragon's face.

It screeched and jerked back, buying them enough time to make it down the block and seek refuge in an abandoned shop. Becker and Ditzy stood in the doorway, waiting, but the dragons flew past without further incident.

"Where's the professor?" Connor asked, sounding panicked.

Becker spun around, immediately taking note of their diminished numbers. They'd lost Cutter, Jenny, Lester, Lorraine, and Blade, and twelve in all. He sent Finn with two others to run a sweep of the streets but they came back with nothing.

He thought again of Cutter and Lester and usefulness, and hoped that would be enough.

* * *

"Becker," Ditzy said in a soft voice, drawing Becker's eyes. "It isn't your watch, why don't you get some rest?"

"Not tired," Becker said, but that was a blatant lie and Ditzy knew it. "I don't sleep so well any more," he admitted when Ditzy wouldn't stop frowning at him.

"I know."

The look on Ditzy's face was even worse now and Becker turned back to the window. It was strange to see how dark the London nights could be with all the lights out.

"Take a walk with me," Ditzy said, placing his hand on Becker's elbow and clearly not about to take no for an answer.

So Becker went with him because he didn't have the energy or, frankly, the desire for even a token argument. Ditzy led him down the stairs and into the basement, a storage room that appeared to have been used as little more than a dumping ground for the shop above them. The mess made Becker twitch even though he knew the place had been ransacked for supplies at least twice over (someone had clearly been there before they'd arrived, which was kind of comforting, in an odd way) and thus hadn't always looked like this.

"What are you expecting from me?" Becker asked because Ditzy still hadn't said anything.

"I don't expect anything."

"Then what are we here for?"

Ditzy sighed. "We're here because I want you to take a break. You need a break."

"It's the apocalypse. Pretty sure it doesn't stop for breaks."

Ditzy looked like he wanted to smile in spite of himself, though there was a fair bit of exasperation mixed in with his amusement. "We got dealt a shit card and no mistake."

Becker ran his hand through his hair, not even caring any more how wrecked it got because he hadn't even done so much as look in a mirror since the morning of the attack. "But it's all keep calm and carry on, right? Keep soldiering on, like civilians didn't die in the street around me, like the ARC didn't get fucking blown up when I couldn't even be there to help you."

"Yeah, people died," Ditzy said, his body tensing like he was on the edge of shouting at Becker, or maybe punching him. "People are still dying. But those people upstairs? Most of them wouldn't even be alive if not for you. You have to take something out of that, Becker, something real. You can't save everyone and no one expects you to. Just… just look at the faces of the people you did save and hold onto that."

Sarah was screaming in Becker's head and he shuddered. "It's the other faces I keep seeing."

"I know," Ditzy said, his eyes haunted, and Becker wondered if he saw Lyle's face in his mind.

Becker let himself say something that had been building up inside him for days on end without being entirely certain why he was saying it. Maybe just because it was Ditzy, no-nonsense Ditzy who always listened and then told you if you were being an idiot, but it was always no more and no less than the truth. "Do you know what I can't stop thinking about? I don't even know if my family's okay and I have absolutely no way of finding out. My parents were still living in Romsey, in the same house I grew up in, but it could be rubble on the ground for all I know. I've got a niece, just turned three, and a sister still at uni studying literature and I don't have a fucking clue if they're alive or dead."

"Like you're the only one who has family to be worried about? We're all missing people, Becker, and we all have to deal with it and just move on."

"Move on, right," Becker scoffed. "What exactly are we meant to be moving on to? As far as I can see, it's all just more and more shit."

"We're surviving," Ditzy said, gripping Becker by the arms.

Becker sagged, feeling the anger drain out of him. "I'm so tired, Ditz. That doesn't seem enough to me any more. I wanted… I wanted to bring you all through this but I can't see the way any more." Maybe he had never seen it.

"You know what one of the irritating things about you is?"

"Only one of them?" Becker arched an eyebrow.

Ditzy's mouth twitched. "Only one for now. It's how you think you've got to do every damned thing on your own. You're always running off to be the hero but you aren't alone. You aren't alone in this."

While he spoke, Ditzy's hands had worked their way up Becker's arms until he was rubbing Becker's shoulders gently, easing some of the tight knots. He stroked his hands up past Becker's collar to the skin of his neck.

"For once in your life, let go," Ditzy said, his fucking cold hands feeling strangely pleasant against Becker's too warm skin.

Becker couldn't recall the last time someone had touched him, really touched him. He knew he should pull away, he knew he should go back upstairs and do his job. That was all he had left any more.

But maybe he needed something that was only his.

The world was broken, cracks spider-webbing out from that fucking anomaly, and it was all Becker could do not to break along with it.

Becker let go. For a little while, it was enough.

* * *

It was supposed to have been a simple outing to scout for supplies. (Becker wanted to cross his fingers for a stash of alcohol as he couldn't remember a single moment in his life when he had wanted a drink more.) Becker wouldn't have even brought Connor and Abby but they'd begged so convincingly that he'd got irritated and acquiesced. He knew it was more about Cutter than anything else; Connor still thought that maybe, just maybe, they'd find Cutter again. It was perhaps silly to hope so fiercely, but Becker thought it would be needlessly cruel to disillusion him. After all, they'd never found any bodies and presumably they were all making for the same place. Somewhere that was not London.

They had little left but hope and Becker wanted Connor to hold onto it as long as he could.

The outing didn't go simply. They spotted the messenger dragon too late, or perhaps it spotted them too soon. It dragged Roberts into the air, shouting and struggling and then going limp as the thing cracked his spine.

"Get under cover!" Becker yelled at Connor and Abby, while he and Ditzy shot at the dragon flying away.

It dropped Roberts, sending his body crashing down onto the top of an abandoned car. It was calling out in its strange language, clicking sounds and harsh, guttural noises that could almost have been words.

"It's calling for help, Jesus, it's calling for help," Becker said, catching Ditzy's eyes. "Get inside!" he yelled to the civilians again, but of course they were in a particularly hard-hit area of the city, the buildings half-destroyed, the windows shattered, the roofs caving in.

He and Ditzy joined Connor and Abby in the most solid building they could get to, watching in dismay as one of the acid-spitters flew into sight. Connor and Abby were standing shoulder to shoulder with their Glock 17s upraised. Becker had made them carry the guns, for all the good they were likely to do. Connor's hands were shaking but he kept his ground.

Becker wished Lester had taken him seriously when he'd asked if he could requisition a rocket launcher. He wished he'd been more serious when he'd asked.

The smaller dragon was hovering in front of the entrance, clearly knowing they were inside, and it hissed at its companion. "Ditz," Becker said, and they both opened fire with their H&K MP5s.

The dragon let out an unholy screech, raising wind with the beating of its wings as it went up higher. They were forced to duck for cover as the second dragon swept in and burned holes through the floor with its… its saliva, or whatever the hell the gunk was.

Abby and Connor had thankfully scurried farther away, seeking refuge under a charred table and still clutching onto their guns. When the messenger returned for another round, clawing chunks out of the walls, Abby quickly surged out, took a shot in the direction of its head, and rejoined Connor.

She was a far better shot than Connor, and good in a tight corner, so Becker didn't even mind her doing it. He and Ditzy ran to get a better angle, firing to keep the focus of the acid-spitter on them.

"Sodding hell," Ditzy cursed when the messenger came straight through the broken wall.

"Here!" Becker shouted, gesturing with his arm, and Abby and Connor scrambled to get out from under the table.

They ran across the floor, dodging the acid and the debris, while Becker and Ditzy laid down cover fire. The two dragons made some sort of verbal exchange and backed off, surging up higher into the sky. Becker looked up, trying to sight them, and realised what they were doing too late.

"They're going to bring down the building on us!" He grabbed Abby, who was closest, and threw them both as far away as he could, hearing the creaking and rumbling of the remnants of the roof as it came down.

He grunted as a beam caught the back of his leg and smaller bits of debris rained down on him while he tried to cover Abby completely. He heard Connor cry out and prayed with all he had to someone who clearly wasn't listening.

The only thing that saved them was, in a sick sort of irony, another dragon. It came swooping in, giving what must have been an order, and all three dragons soared away.

"Connor!" Abby shouted, pushing herself away from Becker. "Connor!"

Connor's head and shoulders were poking out from underneath a mess of building materials. He wasn't moving. Abby started yanking at the beams, clawing with her hands.

Ditzy, filthy and bleeding but seemingly okay, rushed over, checking Connor's vitals and then saying, "Come on, shift it carefully."

Between the three of them they managed to get Connor out from under the ruins of the roof. He was blinking awake and moaning by the time they were through, his shirt soaked through with blood.

Abby was crying silently, tears dripping down her cheeks, and she didn't respond in the slightest to Becker cautiously placing his arm around her shoulders.

Ditzy had balled up his jacket to press to Connor's abdomen and was speaking to him in a low, soothing voice. "Abby, come here and keep the pressure on, will you?"

She did so immediately, sliding out from Becker's grip like he hadn't even been there.

Ditzy shook his head at Becker and murmured, "I don't have the kit for this. He needs a hospital; he's not going to make it. "

Becker watched Abby crouching down by Connor's side and said, "You try telling her that."

* * *

Ditzy did what he could for Connor, cleaning and dressing his wounds, but he told Becker that Connor was bleeding internally and there wasn't anything he could do about it. Connor likely wouldn't last the day.

They took him to a nearby apartment complex that looked largely intact, finding an open flat on the ground floor. Once they had settled Connor onto a bed, Becker ran to retrieve the rest of their group and then set up a watch at the windows.

Abby had planted herself firmly at Connor's side and was holding his hand. Connor's face was tilted towards the bedroom window, his voice weak but steady enough. "Used to think about what it'd be like, being in an apocalypse. Always figured I'd do all right, you know, the nerdy genius who taps hidden depths and turns out to be secretly kind of awesome." He coughed wetly. "Guess I was wrong on that one."

Abby wiped the blood away from his mouth. "You're going to be fine, do you hear me?"

Becker shoved himself up and away from the doorframe where he'd been leaning, watching. Ditzy squeezed his shoulder as he left.

If he'd been trying to escape being confronted with the inevitable, the outside world wasn't any better. Beyond the flat nothing awaited him but his new, miserable reality. The world he'd known was gone.

Becker stood in the deserted street, London in ruins around him. A storm was coming, the sky dark and clouded over. He looked up to see a dragon flying overhead, the dark silhouette lit by the glowing anomaly still visible in the distance above the destroyed skyline.

Becker raised his Mossberg but the dragon was too far off to pay him any mind, instead soaring through the air and vanishing through the anomaly. Becker watched it go and lowered his gun.

Thunder boomed, loud in the silence, followed by a crack of lightning.

The anomaly closed.

_**End**_


End file.
